“Do you now believe?” Jesus replied. “A time is coming and in fact has come when you will be scattered, each to your own home. You will leave me all alone. Yet I am not alone, for my Father is with me.
I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” John 16:31-33 NIV In the last several months I have been thinking a lot about Jesus. In my mind’s eye, or in my spirit, I’ve been looking at Him to see His interactions with people in the days when He walked on earth as a man. I’ve re-read chapters from Tales of the Resistance in which the character of the King shows up so often in plain clothes, but always with this glow of warmth, this comforting familiarity of spirit, this laugh that shatters shame, and the kindest eyes and embrace. Of course, there is Aslan, too, who asks very hard things of children and beings he has called to lead and follow him. Will they trust him when the ways and odds appear impossible? Will they receive his reviving breath and friendship and lordship? I see a lot of similar challenging questions asked of people in red letters in the gospels as I read. Taking a couple of steps back, I am just grateful for His abundant patience. “Do you now believe?” Testimony upon testimony in my life are evidence of His faithfulness. But sometimes I still get too much in my head and think I’ve come up against something too distinct, a trouble all my own, and believe the lie that no one really understands me or ever can. Recently, in moments (or in days after those moments) I’ve looked at Jesus, and He’s shown me He does in fact understand. Emmanuel. God with us. His is not an understanding that brushes aside the weight of pain, rather, He’s shown me how He took it on first so that He could sit with me, or you, in it fully, with compassion, grace, gentleness, and truth. Whether physical pain or relational struggles or simply sitting in a “not yet” when there is a promise of God before me, well, yes, He’s felt this, too. “I don’t leave you alone in your pain.” God with us. Present. Patient. Humble enough to help us process through. This has brought me peace and comfort. It’s not an idea that hasn’t been written about before, but perhaps through my simple words Holy Spirit will reveal His goodness to your heart as well that you may know peace more fully. - - - What were those thirty years like, Lord, when you worked and lived and breathed as simply a carpenter, a son of Joseph and Mary, a member of a family and a city and a synagogue? You knew who you were. You knew and still you waited, and knowing you, you did not grow bitter in the waiting, or discontent, you waited patiently, so patiently, and you loved well in the waiting, and you always kept your heart fixed on the Father. What peace. What rest. What trust. What beauty. That’s not how I’ve ever waited for anything. I can’t imagine reading Psalms and Isaiah, knowing they speak of my power and victory, and then quietly enjoying a meal with my family. But you, God-outside-of-time, and man who though God did count equality with God as a thing to be grasped, you waited patiently for the proper time to be revealed in your glory. Teacher, will you teach me to be patient like you? They passed the bread and fish around
I got my portioned share and scoffed And said I’d had better But you see that wasn’t true I just couldn’t understand this grace It’s never been my wisdom
That’s been needed in this world, But simply my surrender to your ways. When you taught upon the mount, You countered every lie of self-sufficiency I have mustered and held up as a god. When you fed me and the thousands, Who took and ate without question, You taught as one with authority And we sat and pondered in awe. So why is it so hard to take you at your word? It has been proven here in my stomach today, It has worked its way into the sinews of my heart, It has caused my spirit to look past into eternal things, And you are real as day before me, teaching, Feeding, giving thanks, making silly faces at the children, Are you the king I’ve longed for? You spent so much time making sure all were fed. You didn’t send any away when we came to you empty. Are you the king I’ve longed for? Your clothes are travel-worn, Your heart is more tender toward the hungry Than anyone I’ve seen. We came to you, so you fed us, You fed us the real thing. Bread and fish And yourself, present with us, unashamed of lack. Are you the king I’ve longed for? King among the least of these, among, And listening. I’ve noticed that about you, You listen before you speak. Be dearly soft and tender
Submit to leading like a lamb Be fully meek and humble Submit to bleeding like the lamb Be boldly gracious and loving Move with passion like a lion Be boldly generous and steady Move with compassion like the lion Be all things to all people That they may know Him Who was and is and is to come That they may see Him Through your weakness Through the roar you roar by His strength Be made like Him Be humble as clay God will you remind me
How you hide me In the shadow of your wings How you hold me In the midst of suffering God will remind me That your breath is all I need God will you remind me To just sit here at your feet And be with you God will you remind me How my heart does long for you God will you remind me That you are good in all you do God will you remind me My God oh please unblind me God will you unbind me From the lies of who you are That have kept me locked and jarred God will you remind me of your peace Oh God, my God, please respond to me How do I hold all of you?
Your joy, your peace, your grief, your suffering? How do I hold all of you, my lover king? You are worthy of my sacrifice of praise, Worthy of my doubt and my faith, Worthy to be held and beheld in your glory, I know this and it’s a lot for me. Paradox king, how do you rest? Paradox king, how do you call me blessed When I am poor in spirit When I am mourning When I am meek When I hunger and thirst for righteousness When I am merciful When I am pure in heart When I am a peacemaker When I am persecuted for your namesake How do you call me blessed When the world says I am cursed and lowly? Ah. You are lower still. Lower than my lowest lonely And still more glorious than the skies, Paradox king, I can’t make sense of you. Is it that I don’t need to? That I am to trust you unexplained? Just trust and know you? Then help me know you, Lord, please. Help me know you. |
AuthorI write to process. I write to explore. I write with the hope of sharing truth greater than my own. Archives
February 2022
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